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The apartment is eerily silent. Spotting Brock’s defeated look from the corner of my eye tells me that we have come to the sameconclusion—Gareth isn’t here. In fact, no one is. Butterflies fill my stomach as the realization that we are alone hits me. The last time Brock and I were alone was at that party. Heat rushes to my face at the memory.
Turning away from him quickly, I head to the kitchen, calling out to him.
“Would you, ah, like a beer or something?”
Brock answers me over his shoulder as he takes in our apartment. My mind flips through all the times he has been here, and I am not sure if he has ever made it past the threshold. Pouring myself a glass of wine and grabbing a beer from the refrigerator for Brock, my hands shake.
Why am I suddenly nervous? My mind flips like a Rolodex, trying to find another time we were truly alone, coming up empty. The only exception is the night of the frat party…in his room…when I came grinding in his lap.
Handing Brock his beer as I step back into the living room and take a seat on the couch, my head nods to the empty cushion next to me.
“Can you tell me now what you need to talk to Gareth about?”
Brock’s brow furrows as he drinks half of his beer in one go, my own eyebrows hitting my hairline.
“First, let me apologize for canceling on you at the last minute tonight. Coach called me into his office,” he starts. His attention is focused on the beer bottle in his hand as he picks at the label. Brock shakes his head, and it’s that moment I see the stack of papers tucked between his leg and the couch cushion.
Waving off his apology as he finishes his beer, I grab him another one. It’s obvious that he needs it. With fresh beer in hand, Brock launches into the details of his meeting and subsequent phone call to the man who might be his new agent.
“Wow, Brock…” My mind spins to find the right thing to say. Although, what do you say to someone whose father is fucking them over?
He places his hand on top of mine, and my eyes fly to where we are connected. Our relationship has changed somewhat over the past couple of weeks. Brock has been more attentive while we are on road trips. He always makes sure that I am looked after. That could range from verifying my whereabouts to making sure I have a full belly. It’s a big change from the cocky guy I met at the beginning of the semester.
Brock's thumb brushes back and forth over my knuckles as we sit in silence, each of us lost in thought. The air in the room becomes charged as a nervous energy courses through me. My eyes roam over Brock’s features. His chiseled jaw lightly brushed in blond stubble, has my fingers itching to touch it.
What would that feel like against the flesh of my inner thigh?
Squirming in my seat as a rush of wetness between my legs dampens my panties, I quickly gulp down a large portion of my drink. Unable to help myself, pulling my hand from Brock’s, my fingertips brush his jaw. A soft moan escapes him as his eyes drift closed, his head tipping back on his shoulders.
Unsure where my boost of confidence is coming from, but deciding not to fight it, I rise to my feet. Grabbing Brock’s hand and tugging him to his feet, I lead him to my bedroom.
Turning on a lamp next to my bed, I lock the door behind us. While Kennedy might not sleep here most nights, this is technically still her room too.
Pushing Brock to sit on the bed, his legs part, leaving room for me to step between them. His hands move to my waist as my arms wrap around his neck. Since he is so tall and I am so short, our faces are pretty much level.
Closing the distance, our lips touch briefly several times before Brock loses control. One of his hands moves to the backof my neck as he takes control of the kiss. His tongue pushes against my lips, urging them to part. Without hesitation, they do, and his tongue thrusts inside. As our tongues dance, the bitter aftertaste of the beer, along with what is uniquely Brock, causes me to moan.
Brock uses the hand that is still on my waist to pull me closer. Unable to get close enough, I move to straddle him, placing one knee on each side of his hip. My hands wander to his waist, and my fingertips brush against the hard muscles of his abdomen.
He breaks the kiss long enough to remove the shirt from his body. The move is hot as hell, as he does it by simply grabbing the collar of his shirt, revealing his sculptured body in one move. My hands run over his chest and stomach of their own accord. Somehow, Brock maneuvers us so his head rests on the pillow, keeping our bodies together.
Seeing him lying on my bed like he belongs there, I rip my own shirt up over my head. Brock gasps as he takes me in, a small bit of lace covering my breasts. He bends at the waist, one hand going to my hair as he smashes his face against mine. Teeth clack against each other at the abruptness. Brock’s other hand moves to my breast, tugging on my nipple through the rough fabric.
Moaning at the sensation, his hips start to move, urging me to move in tandem with him. Tugging the cup of my bra down under my breast, his callused thumb brushes against my hard nipple. Pulling our mouths apart, his mouth closes over my other nipple, biting it through the now-wet lace. My back arches into his touch at the feel of it.
Brock moves off of me. Gripping me by the waist, he spins me, setting me on my feet. I yelp in surprise, causing him to laugh. He really is strong if he can toss me around like that.
The feather-light kisses Brock places over my torso have my panties soaked.
His hands roam over my body. The roughness of his hands adds to the myriad of sensations.
Sliding his hands up my back, Brock deftly snaps the hooks on my bra, causing the material to slack. Drifting his hands higher, he slowly slips the straps down my arms. Once the bra clears my fingertips, Brock tosses it aside.
Taking a nipple into his mouth, the wet heat has me moaning. Brock kisses his way back and forth across my chest, dividing his attention evenly between the two.
My fingers have a mind of their own, running through the short strands, holding his mouth to my breast. Brock’s hair is as soft as I expected it to be.
Moving his hands to my waist, Brock moves them around the front of my body, unbuttoning my jeans. Tracing his finger along the top of my underwear causes me to shiver. Reaching for the waistband of my pants to remove them, Brock bats them away. Looking down, I bite back a chuckle as he glares at me out of the top of his eyes, his mouth still wrapped around a nipple.
